


How to Maintain Illusions

by NEPTUNiCM



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Betrayal, Choi Jongho is Whipped, Choi Jongho-centric, Falling In Love, Falling Out of Love, Heartbreak, Hongjoong is the only voice of reason, Jongho is a sweetheart, M/M, Park Seonghwa is Whipped, Seonghwa is a dick I'm sorry, There Is No Happily Ever After, letter-format, projecting my feelings onto fictional characters, sad but realistic??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NEPTUNiCM/pseuds/NEPTUNiCM
Summary: This is a letter of regret and of love, of anger and sadness. It’s a plea for honesty and of mercy; A letter to finally let go. It’s an acknowledgment for the two of them, just kids, young, dumb and in love as they were, to think, and to feel. It’s a love story, albeit sad, but nonetheless true. It has a gratifying ending, after all, even if they don’t end up living out their happily ever after. This is a letter from Choi Jongho to Park Seonghwa, recounting their story, reflecting on their choices, and how maintaining illusions can be toxic and disastrous, no matter how beautiful they are.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Park Seonghwa
Kudos: 15





	How to Maintain Illusions

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics are taken from 'Hore og madonna' by Cezinando.

**Jeg bryr meg ikke,**

_(I don’t care,)_

**men når du sier du elsker meg,**

_(but when you say you love me,)_

**tror jeg deg som folk tror på Gud.**

_(I believe you like people believe in God.)_

Dearest Seonghwa,

It’s Jongho. Remember me? It seems so long ago, doesn’t it? I wonder if you think of me. I think of you all the time, though I wish I wouldn’t.

I first met you in the autumn of my freshman year of college. It’s ironic, really, considering how you made fall. You were exactly the type of boy I would fall for, too; Tall, handsome, smart, and _deadly._ I didn’t know it then, of course, but I should have suspected.

I was nineteen, barely legal, and _young._ You had just turned twenty-three, older, and my _hyung._ I was supposed to be able to trust you. You promised to take care of me, to _protect_ me.

It was a Tuesday, late, dark and stormy. I should’ve taken the bad weather as a warning. I didn’t think of it, of course. I didn’t think of anything back then. I was fresh out of high school with nothing to lose and everything to prove.

I was staying over at Hongjoong’s apartment. I had no classes that day, so I made myself at home. Hongjoong-hyung was supposed to be helping me with homework, but hadn’t shown yet.

_Jongho hears the apartment door open and click shut._

_“Hongjoong-hyung, have you seen my calculus book?” He calls out. “I couldn’t find mine. Seungmin sent me a picture of the pages, so it’s fine for now. But I still have to find it.”_

_When the only answer he receives is silence, Jongho calls out again, louder, “hyung?”_

_No answer this time either._

_“I swear to god, I will_ cut off _your fringe,” Jongho mutters, throwing off the blanket he’d wrapped around himself and padding into the living room._

_“I’ve been waiting—! all… day…”_

_Jongho stops dead in his tracks when he sees_ him _._

I still remember what I wore, do you? It was _so_ embarrassing. I wore a ketchup-stained hoodie, and Toy Story _‘Little Green Men’_ underwear. I had mismatching socks, too, and the cord of my headset tangled around my right arm. In my left hand, I clutched a Nintendo Switch covered in Winx stickers.

I still had my braces back then, and Hongjoong-hyung said it made me look like a thirteen-year-old. It made me feel like one too, but you never viewed me as a kid, and called me _‘handsome’_ whenever I smiled. I always liked it when you did that. It made me feel more mature, more like an adult, more like _you_.

_There is a boy standing in the foyer, dripping wet from the shower of rain outside, sporting an unreadable expression._

_A crease appears in Jongho’s forehead._

_“You’re not Hongjoong-hyung,” Jongho says dumbly, a tad bit embarrassed. He makes no move to say anything more_

_“No, I’m not. I’m Seonghwa. Who are you?”_

You had black hair, cut right beneath your chin, but pulled back in a messy ponytail. Bronze eyes, in the form of dark shards of amber glittered like torches in your eyes, sat above angular cheekbones that seemed to cut me right to the bone.

You wore a neon green long sleeve shirt under a black _‘Friends’_ graphic tee. I remember wondering if you actually liked the show, or if it was simply because it looked cool. I learned later that you’d never seen it, so I made you sit with me every weekend for two months until we had watched all the episodes. Your favorites were Rachel and Monica, but I always liked Ross better.

_The boy—Seonghwa—seems taken aback by Jongho’s presence, and almost… almost slightly offended that he was there._

_“I’m Jongho,” Jongho says. “Hongjoong’s— uh, friend.”_

_Seonghwa doesn’t answer._ _He looks Jongho up and down, eyes dark, just standing there drenched like a drowned cat._

 _Jongho can feel the seconds ticking by_ _._

_When Seonghwa doesn’t offer any response, Jongho continues, “well—” He coughs, “Seonghwa-ssi, what are you doing here?”_

_“I came to see Hongjoong, actually,” says Seonghwa. “I left my wallet here last night, and he said I could come by and get it today. He didn’t tell me he would have company.”_

_“Oh, well, Seonghwa-ssi, you- you can- yeah… I- I don’t know where it is, but, you’re- uh- welcome to look,” Jongho flounders, cheeks red._

It wasn’t my finest moment, I must admit. But the way your eyes never left my face when I talked made me… not uncomfortable, but it made me awkward.

I wish I knew what you were thinking in that moment, when your name left my lips for the first time. Did you know? Did you know what you would mean to me? Did you know I would bend over and break my back for you the moment I laid eyes on you? You probably did. It was written all over my face, I was just too dumb to notice.

_“I didn’t accuse you of taking it, Jongho-ssi,” Seonghwa says, eyes full of mirth, enjoying how Jongho squirms under his heavy gaze._

_“Well, no- I didn’t think that,” says Jongho. “You can- uhm, as I said, go ahead and look for it. You- uh, you can to dry off too… if you want. I don’t know, I don’t live here.”_

_“You’re assuming that I’m staying?”_

_“No! No- I was just- uh,” Jongho fumbles, twiddling with the cord of his headset, not able to form a coherent sentence without stumbling over his words._

_“Relax,” says Seonghwa, “I’m joking.” He kicks off his shoes and places them by the door. He removes the elastic from his hair before raking his hand through it, making the wet strands fall into his eyes._

_“I can go see it, uh, if… Hongjoong-hyung probably has some clothes that fit,” Jongho says. “I’ll go look.”_

_“Thank you,” Seonghwa says, but Jongho doesn’t hear it, already scurrying away in embarrassment._

The cheerful Animal Crossing soundtrack was still playing softly in the background, and made the whole interaction seem like a silly movie-scene. It was almost comical. But only almost.

The clothes I lent you were too small, most of Hongjoong’s clothes were. The black t-shirt clung to your chest, accentuating your muscles, and the sweatpants ended mid-calf. But I gave you one of my zip-up hoodies, the purple one with a small kittens placed on the pockets, so you didn’t look completely ridiculous. I don’t think you could ever look ridiculous though, even if you tried.

_“Is this yours?” Seonghwa asks, pulling at the strings of the hoodie._

_“Yes,” Jongho says, averting Seonghwa’s intense stare. “I, uh… couldn’t find any of Hongjoong-hyung’s. ”_

_“Thank you, Jongho, truly. I’ll make it up to you someday.”_

_Seonghwa winks, then cracks a smile._

_Jongho carefully smiles back, and sinks down onto the couch with a moony expression when the door closes behind Seonghwa._

I lied, by the way, when I told you I couldn’t find any of Hongjoong’s hoodies. But I sensed you somehow knew that anyway. I thought you looked so incredibly good wearing mine. So good in fact, that I almost didn’t want to ask for it back.

I must have left my phone unlocked, because after you left, I received a text saying you hoped to see me again. My heart leapt out of my chest.

_“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you okay, Jongho?” Hongjoong knits his eyebrows, looking at the younger boy in concern._

_“I just saw a siren, hyung. Like, the ones from the fairytales.”_

_“Who, Seonghwa? I just met him in the hall.” Hongjoong sends him a confused look._

_“I’m not going to unpack this,” he decides. Waving a hand dismissively, he puts the grocery bag on the counter._

_“Go to bed, yeah?” Hongjoong says. “ You can crash here. It’s late, and you have class tomorrow.”_

_“What about my calculus homework?”_

_“I can help you with it later instead. It’s not due till Thursday anyway. Now, it’s late, go to bed—Shoo!”_

I remember falling asleep that night with a

stupid

stupid

stupid

_stupid_

smile on my face. And I remember loving it.

We met for a second time only weeks after. We had been texting non-stop, and you wanted to take me out to say thank you for giving you dry clothes the day of the storm. You asked me to meet you at _Sunny Side Up_ , the local diner.

You were there, sitting in a booth in the corner, sipping on a yellow straw in a chocolate milkshake, whipped cream on your cheek and endearing mole by the side of your mouth. Nose deep in a book, glasses perched precariously on the bridge of your nose, you didn’t notice me right away. Your brows were drawn together tightly, and your tongue peeked out by the corner of your mouth in concentration.

_Their eyes meet, and Jongho gives Seonghwa a faint smile, ears red and cheeks flaming._

_“Have you been waiting long?” Jongho asks, sliding into the booth opposite from Seonghwa._

_“No, not at all.”_

_“What are you reading?”_

_Seonghwa tries hiding the book behind his hands, “Oh, uhm, it’s stupid…”_

_“Come on, show me,” Jongho urges, hands clasped and leaning over to sneak a peek at the yellowed pages._

_Seonghwa reluctantly removes his hands._

_“Pride and Prejudice,” Jongho breathes out in surprise. “You’re reading Pride and Prejudice.”_

_“Yeah, I told you it was stupid."_

_“What? No! My mom loves that book. She read it to me multiple times when I was younger. Talked about it all the time, too. Have you seen the movie?”_

Your eyes shone like a pair of polished gems while talking, and crinkled when you grinned back at me. I would never have pegged you as the romantic type, but you never ceased to surprise me. And really, _Pride and Prejudice_? If not for the abashed look on your face, I probably would have teased you more.

Because you see, Seonghwa, I expected you to be all sharp edges and rough corners. I expected you to listen to metal and ride a motorcycle. I thought you would be the quiet, brooding type, not the overexcited puppy-like persona you showed me. You surprised me, as I wrote earlier, which only made me fall faster.

You were the first person to take a genuine interest in me and my interests, instead of brushing them off and calling me childish. So what if I owned every season of Winx on DVD? So what if I had the soundtrack to Sailor Moon downloaded on my MP3?

You didn’t care. _You didn’t care_ that I had poured years of my life to idolizing magical girls with wings and superpowers. You asked me if we could watch a few episodes together, and I, of course, was ecstatic. It was another part of you that I loved. Your genuineness.

_“Sailor Moon? She’s like, the coolest fourteen-year-old in the world. I wish I had a younger sister to watch it with,” Seonghwa says, fiddling with the yellow straw in his milkshake._

_“Uh- really? I think you would find it very childish, though.”_

_“I don’t mind, seriously. I still keep my Pokémon cards in a box in my desk. Couldn’t leave them behind when I left for College.”_

_“We could watch it together… if you want.” Jongho refuses to meet his eyes, but looks up when Seonghwa excitedly grabs his hand._

_“Are you kidding?” Seonghwa’s eyes go wide. “Absolutely!”_

I don’t think I’ve ever smiled as widely as I did in that moment. We just… clicked. You see, I was deathly afraid you wouldn’t see me as more than a younger brother. I thought you asked to meet me because you wanted to return the hoodie and treat me to some good food for once.

So when you asked, when you asked to kiss me, it was like divine intervention, and I was spellbound. You needn’t have asked, I would have given it to you freely regardless. I would’ve given you anything.

_“Can I kiss you?” Seonghwa asks._

_Jongho nods, “yeah, uh- sure.”_

_He leans in, and Jongho sees a tiny mole hidden by the fold of his eyelids, before Seonghwa’s warm mouth meets his. Their lips slot together, and Jongho feels a sudden urge to cry._

You kissed me. You kissed me. You kissed me.

You kissed me right on the mouth with no hesitation. Your lip snagged on my braces and you bled. I was mortified, but you only laughed. I held a napkin to your lips until the bleeding stopped, and then you kissed me again. You made me feel so _safe_ when I was around you, like nothing could touch me.

But you didn’t kiss _me_ as much as you kissed my soul. It felt like I was on fire, every cell searing with something not unlike _hunger_. I could taste the chocolate on your tongue, and feel the _want_ on your lips.

Looking back, I really wish you hadn’t kissed me. But in that moment, it was everything I could hope for, and everything I wanted.

_“You’re not like other guys I’ve met,” Jongho says breathlessly._

_Seonghwa pulls away and cradles Jongho’s head between his hands, gentle as always._

_“I know.”_

I remember you laughing, laughing because I was right. You weren’t like other guys I’ve met. You were worse. I just didn’t know it yet.

We frequented at _Sunny Side Up_ after that. You had a chocolate milkshake (always with a yellow straw) and I had strawberry. Irene, one of the servers, would pinch my cheek and give us free cookies whenever they had a fresh batch. It became a sort sanctuary for us. It felt safe. And again, _you_ made me feel safe.

I work at _Sunny Side Up_ now, by the way. It’s nice. Irene still works here, on a break between jobs, and San got a job here, too. It’s not the same without you, obviously, but the smells are all the same, the straws are still yellow, and the feeling of home never went away…

Our first actual date was at the arcade, remember? I _annihilated_ you at _Street Fighter II: The World Warrior_ , and you beat me in _Joust_. Just as it was supposed to be. I didn’t even mind that I lost, too caught up in the fact that you even knew how to play the games.

My friends never beat me at any of the games at the arcade. They didn’t like the arcade, anyway, and said we shouldn’t even _be_ there, and shouldn’t _‘hog’_ machines so the younger kids could have fun. But we were there for hours, and it was one of the best days of my life.

_“What do you want me to win?”_

_“That one,” Jongho says excitedly, bouncing restlessly on the balls of his feet as he gestures to a brown bear plush._

_“One Rilakkuma plush coming right up,” Seonghwa jokes, slotting the coins into the machine._

You won me the Rilakkuma plush, the one I had been eyeing for weeks. I still have it, hidden in a box beneath my bed. I take it out sometimes, when the anxiety creeps up my back and the angst crawls over my chest. It’s a comfort. Sometimes I pretend you’re there with me instead, when the nights seem especially dark.

_“You’ve got some cream on your cheek, darling.”_

_“Where?”_

_“Right…” He leans forward lightly swiping his thumb over Jongho’s cheek, smiling all the while. “…there."_

_Seonghwa brings his thumb into his mouth, eyes dark with something akin to arousal as he obscenely sucks off the excess cream, swallowing around the digit._

_Jongho gulps, milkshake forgotten as he leans in and plants a kiss on Seonghwa’s lips._

God, you were perfect.

After that we became inseparable. Or, _insufferable_ , as Hongjoong-hyung said. I don’t think he ever approved of us, but he hid it well. I didn’t care either way, I was too far gone. Because I fell for you slowly, like wading into the sea, then all at once, plunging into the dark waters headfirst. It was dangerous, and I knew it, but looking at you rendered me helpless to stop it.

You took me to the beach once. We had been dating for a few months by then, held hands, kissed, talked, laughed, and cried. I almost couldn’t remember a time where we _hadn’t_ known each other.

_“Will you be my boyfriend?” Seonghwa asks later, as their hands are entwined between them, the sun kissing their skin in the late afternoon._

_“Of course I will,” Jongho says without missing a beat, the gentle waves of the sea lapping at their feet._

_Seonghwa squeezes his hand and drags them both to their feet, the seagulls squawking in the distance. They wade into the ocean together, and that’s when he says it._

_Jongho splashes him playfully, but says it back, and means it just as much._

You surprised me by saying it first. I didn’t think you would do it, I didn’t even dare to _hope_ you would. But I _know_ you meant it. It might be one of the few things about us I know for certain. We loved each other. It only made the inevitable fall a lot harder.

The sun set behind the horizon as you drove me back home that day, windows rolled down, and wind in our hair. You entwined our fingers and kissed me goodnight, and I still had a bubbly and warm feeling in my chest when my head hit my pillow.

The only feeling in my chest right now is dread.

Because you made my Monday’s feel like Friday’s, Seonghwa. You looked at me like I was your sun, moon, and all your stars, and I worshipped you like you were the center of the universe.

Now, you fill me with longing, nostalgia, and heartache.

_“Mom, what are these?”_

_“They are old films and pictures, of me and your dad. We started taking them in College,” his mother says, a sad smile playing on her lips._

_She reaches out for the box and picks up one of the albums, lazily flicking through the photographs._

_“This one here,” she holds the album up in front of Jongho, who stares at it with stars in his eyes. It’s is old and dusty, a faded lilac color with the year 1986 printed on the front in silver. “Is from just after we met.”_

_“You met in College?”_

_“Yes, we did. Knew it was true love the moments our eyes met.”_

I saw _us_ in my parent's pictures, and I thought you were the one. I took pictures of us, too, and hung them up on the wall in my dorm. I’ve torn them all to shreds now, but they brought me joy while it lasted.

Hongjoong-hyung once told me that 95% of the ocean is undiscovered. I feel that way about you too. It’s only after, that I realize how little I actually know about you. Because the truth is, I’m beginning to think the Seonghwa I loved doesn’t exist outside the space of my head. And that’s frightening.

Maybe I’m overanalyzing everything. That’s what you told me, anyway.

But I’ve always liked interesting faces. I looked at yours and saw a story _aching_ to be read. I saw a puzzle and I wanted to solve it. I wanted to be the one to crack your code, and the one who tamed the beast. You were an enigma shrouded in mystery, veiled in a cloak of riddles, and locked in a box of puzzles.

Maybe being unable to crack you is what drew me in. It’s like when you find a locked chest in your grandma’s attic and spend hours trying to break it open because you’re convinced, she’s either a runaway princess or a witch.

My life now falls into two categories: Before and After Park Seonghwa. I fell harder for you than I’ve ever fallen before, and probably ever will again. I would pick your clouds, I would pick your skies of grey over anyone’s sunshine any day. And I think that was the problem.

It was always about you, Seonghwa. I just didn’t see it until now.

**Jeg vil ha det,**

_(I want it,)_

**men når du sier du elsker meg,**

_(but when you say you love me,)_

**tror jeg deg ikke litt du er bare full**

_(I don’t believe you at all, you’re just drunk)_

**Fakkit, det er bare tull.**

_(Fuck it, it’s just bull.)_

I cried again today. Not because of you… well, maybe a bit because of you, but mostly because of myself. It’s taken me weeks to write this letter, and will probably take weeks more before I’ve finished. Maybe I’ll never ever even finish. It’s not like you are going to read this anyway.

It’s probably taken this long because it hurts. It hurts reminiscing in our shared memories, and putting the indescribable feelings you evoked in me into words. I can’t seem to get it right. And it just _hurts so much_. I wish you would tell me _why._

Not knowing is tearing me apart.

I remember Yeosang, your ex-boyfriend, came to talk to me. He warned me about you. I didn’t listen. Of course, I didn’t listen. You’ve heard the saying _‘love makes you blind’_? Falling for you made me realize how frustratingly true it is. Love made me blind, deaf, and _stupid_.

_“I’m not trying to ruin anything, Jongho,” Yeosang says. “I promise.” He’s frustrated, it’s written all over his face. His eyes dart around the empty classroom as if waiting for Seonghwa to emerge from the shadowy corners._

_“Why else would you be telling me to stay away, if not because you want him back?” Jongho’s stance is defensive, but his tone is neutral._

_“I don’t want him back, trust me. I’m trying to help you, Jongho. He’ll hurt you. Just like he hurt me.”_

_“You don’t know anything about me,” Jongho snaps._

_“No, but I know him. Just… hm, be careful, alright?”_

I wish I had trusted Yeosang’s words instead of yours. Because he was right, you did hurt me. But then again, we were young, dumb, and in love. I can’t blame you for all my problems, I’m just angry because you’ll never understand the way you made me feel.

The first time I sensed something was off was two days later. You stood me up at a date to the movies. We were going to see _Avengers: Endgame_ , and you _knew_ how much it meant to me. Yet you didn’t come. We hadn’t seen each other all week, too busy studying for our finals. Luckily, a stranger noticed my sad expression and came up to talk to me.

_“Are you here alone?” The boy asks, dimples decorating his cheeks, black hair swept back behind his ear._

_“It seems so,” Jongho sighs, taking a look around the emptying theater. “My boyfriend stood me up.”_

_“Oh, that sucks,” the boy says, looking genuinely sorry. “I had a date too, but I don’t think she’s coming. Want to see the movie together instead? I’m San, by the way.”_

_“I’d like that,” Jongho smiles, “my name is Jongho.”_

I saw the movie with him, Choi San, now one of my best friends and co-worker. But of course, you were jealous. You made me delete his number. And I felt _guilty_ , like _I_ was in the wrong, when _you_ were the one who didn’t show up. You made me feel bad about myself, like I owed you something. That was probably the first red flag.

_“Why didn’t you come, Seonghwa?”_

_“I told you I was busy, darling.”_

_“No, you didn’t. We planned this for weeks, what could be more important?”_

_Seonghwa doesn’t answer._

_“It’s okay,” Jongho says, admitting defeat and sinking down onto the sofa. “I met someone and watched the movie with them instead. Their date stood them up too, so it’s fine.”_

_Seonghwa’s shoulders are visibly tense. “Who?”_

_“His name is San. He was really nice to me, bought me popcorn and let me borrow his jacket afterward because I was cold,” Jongho says, quickly brushing it off as unimportant. “Anyway, the movie—”_

Your expression was neutral, but your eyes were on fire. You were _furious_. Yes, I was ignorant. And yes, San probably hoped to be something more than friends. But I liked the attention, especially since you hadn’t given me any.

 _You_ stood me up. San didn’t. He was nice, and it seemed like he cared. I never planned on going out with him. I didn’t like him in that way, and I still don’t. I _loved you_ , but you were blinded by anger and envy, and didn’t listen to me. You didn’t trust me, and that hurt. I didn’t think it was a big deal. Clearly, you thought differently.

_“Delete his number,” Seonghwa cuts him off._

_“What?”_

_“Delete his number, darling.” His tone is sickeningly sweet, like poison disguised as honey._

_“Why? We’re going to study in the library later this week. I need to know when he’s free.”_

_“I don’t want you to see him,” Seonghwa says through clenched teeth. “Delete his number. You don’t want to make me angry, do you?”_

_“No,” Jongho whispers hoarsely._

_“Give me your phone.”_

_Jongho doesn’t want to argue. Seonghwa deletes San’s number._

_“Good boy,” Seonghwa says and leans over to kiss him. Jongho melts into it for but a second before pulling away. There’s an ugly knot in his stomach._

That conversation sucked all the happiness from my bones, like a Dementor’s Kiss. I don’t think you knew what you were doing to me. At least I didn’t. You see, it was my first relationship. So I went with anything and everything you told me, because I thought that what we had, was how it was supposed to be.

You were always so fucking possessive, Seonghwa. You wanted me for yourself, and I get that. All I _ever_ wanted was to be yours, but even that was too much to ask for. You were always unattainable, kind of like the wind: An untouchable phenomenon, but a phenomenon all the same.

_“Why are you still here, Seonghwa?” He asks, trying to glare at him, but ending up looking more miserable rather than mad. “Don’t you have something better to do than stare at me?”_

_“Yes, I do,” his eyes bore straight through Jongho’s soul. “You.”_

_Jongho blushes all the way to his roots. It feels like he’s bursting into flames._

_“… Me?”_

I was planning on going to bed, too tired to talk more about it. I just wanted some peace where I could think, rationally. But there was never any rationality when it came to us, Seonghwa, was there?

When you wrapped your arms around me, kissed me softly, and whispered tenderly into my ears, I felt cherished— _desirable_. I felt untouchable to the world.

_Seonghwa cups Jongho’s face, desperately searching his eyes._

_“Please, stay.”_

_He places a light kiss on Jongho’s nose._

_“Stay."_

_A kiss on the crown of his head._

_“Stay.”_

_A kiss on both his eyelids._

_“Stay.”_

_A kiss on his cupid’s bow._

_“Stay.”_

_A firm, almost frenzied, kiss on the lips._

_Jongho’s resolve breaks, like it always does. He melts into Seonghwa’s embrace._

_Cradling his head, he rakes a hand through Jongho’s locks, massaging his scalp, while sucking deep bruises onto his unblemished skin._

_Jongho closes his eyes. He succumbs to the feeling, and lets everything go._

The look you gave me was the kind that would melt any heart of ice, the kind that can only be perfected through years of practice and calculated movements— with such _ferocious_ fire in your eyes, I thought my head would split. And I fell for it. How could I resist? You looked like you wanted to devour me. I would have let you.

The last of the evening sunlight streamed into my room, painting the wall yellow, lighting up your face, and I fell in love with you all over again. I was emotional, and you were perfect.

We had sex for the first time that day.

Maybe it’s an unpleasant topic to touch on, but the power you held over me after that first time together, is something I don’t think you can ever understand. I was a virgin, and you were experienced. Even the fact that I topped never mattered, because you were _always_ the one in control.

There was no choice. There _never was_ a choice, just the illusion of one. I would always say yes, and you knew it. The illusion of control is man’s greatest flaw.

_“Can I paint you? You know, like one of my French girls?”_

_“I hope you don’t_ actually _go around painting naked French girls, Seonghwa,” Jongho says, staring at Seonghwa in the mirror. “But sure.”_

_They’re both still naked._

The day after our first time is my most prevalent memory of you, I think. You painted me, splayed out on the bed, sweaty curls on my forehead, and cum-streaks on my torso. You told me I was beautiful. I believed you.

Those were happy times. Drinking milkshakes at Sunny Side Up, holding hands at the beach, or studying at your apartment before falling asleep in each other’s arms... But it was also one of the last happy days we had together. The last fleeting moment of blissful ignorance before the storm.

_“You look like a Picasso painting,” Jongho says, draping an arm over Seonghwa’s shoulder, placing a kiss on his jaw._

_Seonghwa raises an eyebrow. “Do you know how Picasso painted people?”_

_“I was trying to be romantic.”_

_“Romance is dead,” Seonghwa deadpans._

_“But I love you,” Jongho whines, burying his face in Seonghwa’s back._

_“Love is a neurochemical con job.”_

_“Seonghwa!” Jongho laughs, arms tightening around Seonghwa._

_“I love you, too, darling.” Seonghwa turns around in Jongho’s grip and looks at him with such sincerity, that Jongho can’t help but smile._

_Jongho’s cheeks go firetruck red, “just kiss me, loser.”_

_And Seonghwa does._

Sometimes I would wonder if you were better off without me, whether you really needed me at all. I never felt _enough_ for you. You reassured me that you did need me, but your actions said otherwise. And as you know, Seonghwa, actions speak louder than words.

_“You wouldn’t leave me, right?” Jongho says, swinging their entwined hands back and forth as they walk down the street._

_“Of course not. Never.” Seonghwa kisses their hands._

You kissed away my fears and worries, my tears, and my insecurities. God, I loved you _so much_ that it hurt, Seonghwa. I didn’t know it was possible to miss something I hated this much the way I do now.

But it didn’t take long before you started to complain. You said I never paid enough attention to you, when you were the only thing, I paid attention to. You said I spent too much time at the library, with my friends, with my family, and not enough with you. It was almost as if I couldn’t _breathe_ without having to look over my shoulder.

_“Where were you?”_

_Seonghwa drops the book he’s reading on the bed, walking over to where Jongho is taking off his coat._

_“Out with a friend,” answers Jongho._

_“With San? You know I don’t like him.”_

_“What’s your damage, Seonghwa?” Jongho glares._

_“I don’t like him. He’s clearly flirting with you.”_

_“Do we have to do this now?”_

_“I told you to delete his number,” Seonghwa growls. He’s not much taller than Jongho but dwarfs him all the same._

_“Fuck you, Seonghwa!”_

I turned to leave. You begged me to stay… so I stayed. But was that what I wanted, or what you wanted? I honestly couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

_“I’m sorry, okay? Fuck…” He draws a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. “Please, please just stay.”_

_“Just, just shut up, Seonghwa. I don’t know what I want.” Jongho throws up his arms, backing away._

_“Yes, yes you do. You love me. I love you. Stay,” Seonghwa says, grabbing Jongho’s hands and drawing them to his face._

_So Jongho smiles, so utterly blinded by love that he doesn’t see the monster hiding under the beautiful facade._

Falling out of love _sucks_. I don’t know when you stopped loving me, but I wish you had told me. I’m not sure if the shift happened gradually, or all at once, but _why didn’t you tell me_?

You stopped wearing my purple hoodie, I stopped wearing your _‘Friends’_ T-shirt, we stopped watching Sailor Moon together, and never shared milkshakes at _Sunny Side Up_ anymore. You were out late, calling me late at night when you were drunk, even after I told you it made me uncomfortable. It was never a big breach of my trust, just the small things, but it doesn’t make the betrayal any less significant. Small things matter too.

_“Jongho, I care about you so much. Don’t you see what’s happening? You’re losing track of who you are,” Hongjoong says._

_“We’re just going through a rough patch.”_

_“We both know that’s a lie. Stop running away from your problems, stop running away from me!” Hongjoong is pleading at this point. “I just want to help you.”_

_“I love him?” Jongho stammers out, though it sounds more like a question._

_“I know. But can’t you see what this relationship is doing to you?”_

_“I don’t know what to do anymore.”_

I think the difference between us is that I see the world through rose-tinted glasses, and you don’t. Not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t. No one ever showed you how. Maybe if you could, we would be on the same page, maybe we would still be together.

I’m afraid to put this next part into words, because no matter how I write it you will never understand the way I felt inside, the way I _still_ feel inside. I would have followed you to the end of the world if you had asked it of me, Seonghwa. And that was the problem: I put too much of myself into you, and it tore me apart in the end. I lost myself in you, and I didn’t know how to stop the downfall. You were _everything_ to me, but I, clearly wasn’t everything to you.

_Jongho drops his backpack onto the floor as he steps into Seonghwa’s apartment. The smile on his lips evaporates when he sees them. Together._

_“Seonghwa…?”_

Because there you were, naked as the day you were born, _fucking_ someone that wasn’t me. Oh, the look on your face was priceless. You were shocked, but it quickly morphed into horror— not of your actions, but of the fact that you _got caught_. And that was the last straw: You didn’t even feel guilty.

It was in that moment I knew that if I didn’t let go, I would drown.

_“Have you been avoiding me?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Why,” Seonghwa presses._

_Jongho doesn’t answer. He stares up at Seonghwa through his lashes, his eyes showing a single, raw, emotion: crushed._

_“I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll_ be _better. Trust me.” Seonghwa reaches out to touch him, but Jongho moves away. He still says nothing._

 _“How can I trust you, how- how can you tell me to trust you, when you_ do _this?”_

_“I don’t want to break hearts,” Seonghwa declares. The look he sends Jongho almost makes him want to give in. But not this time._

_“But you do, Seonghwa,” Jongho chokes out through the tears. “And now you’ve broken mine too.”_

You _did_ break my heart, and I wanted you to know it. I wanted you to _suffer_ because of it. I hope you did.

We changed, even if we didn’t want to. But change is normal, and change is okay. You have to accept change, even if it breaks your heart. And that was the problem. For the longest time I refused to accept it, and it only made me miserable and bitter in the end. Letting go and accepting the fact that change is _good_ , is the best thing to do. Especially if you don’t want to.

Maybe, once upon a time, we were right for each other. But that's the funny thing about change: Sometimes it happens so slowly that you don't even notice, and when you look at the person you loved yesterday, they're not the same person anymore. I feel like that when I look at you, Seonghwa. I barely recognize you. You’re so different from the boy I fell in love with.

Maybe you thought it was funny, messing with my heart, but you can’t just throw people away when you’re done with them, Seonghwa. You can’t just _toy_ with people’s feelings like that. People do bad things when they’re hurt, but it’s not an excuse.

_His hand is resting on the door leading to Hongjoong’s apartment, arms shaking, grasping the doorknob ‘til his knuckles turn white._

_“Jongho,_ please _-” Seonghwa practically begs._

 _“Stop it, Seonghwa, just s-stop. I can’t trust you anymore. Don’t you get that? Just… just leave me alone, okay?”_

_“I love you.”_

_“I love you, too,” Jongho says tears falling harder by the second. “But love shouldn’t have to hurt this much.”_

I’m standing here now, in the ashes of who I used to be, and I’m trying to put myself back together, piece by bloody piece. Sometimes I wish you were here to help me, but for the most part I wish you had burned with me.

I don’t regret it though, meeting you. You gave me some of the best memories of a lifetime, even if we didn’t work out in the end. And even though you fucked me over, I still loved you. How could I not?

 _“The weak can never forgive,”_ Said Gandhi once. And I try so hard to be strong, but trying your best isn’t always enough. I still haven’t forgiven you. I hope I will someday, but I don’t know _how_. I don’t know if you even deserve it, for everything I went through. Life goes on, you know, with or without you. I have to learn to live with it, too.

I wish I hadn’t fallen for you, Seonghwa, and I wish you didn’t let me. I wish for a lot of things, but most of all I wish I wasn’t so naïve. I question everything about us now, in the After. Did I know the real you? Or did I only love the parts you decided to show me?

I think we just weren’t meant for each other. Some people just aren’t, and that’s okay. Everything that went wrong between us wasn’t your fault, but I blame you anyway, to make me feel better. Maybe that’s selfish, maybe that’s shallow. But at least I have the guts to admit it.

It taught us something too, I suppose. You learned that your lies aren’t invincible and that you are, in fact, not in impalpable. I learned not to be fooled by a pretty face. The most dangerous monsters are always the most beautiful, and you were so _incredibly_ beautiful.

They say you only really know you love someone when you let them go. But I don’t think that’s always true. Because I don’t know if I will ever be able to get over you. You were my first love, and even though it ended badly, it’ll always be special to me. 

Thank you for showing me what real love feels like, even if it’s not what I hoped it would be.

Sincerely,

Choi Jongho.

**Author's Note:**

> Listened to 'I Hate to Admit' by Bang Chan and cried for half an hour before spewing out this mess. Also, my friend preached that Seonghwa would look amazing with long hair, and it was all I could think about for a week. (Cross-posted on Wattpad).


End file.
